Amabel was entrusted to the care of a female attendant, named Prudence, and towards evening, Rochester, who was burning with impatience for an interview, learnt, to his infinite disappointment, that she was so seriously unwell, that if he forced himself into her presence, her life might be placed in jeopardy.
She continued in the same state for several days, at the end of which time, the chirurgeon who attended her, and who was a creature of the earl's, pronounced her out of danger.

Rochester then sent her word by Prudence that he must see her in the course of that day, and a few hours after the delivery of the message, he sought her room.

She was much enfeebled by illness, but received him with great self-possession.
"I cannot believe, my lord," she said, "that you desire to destroy me, and when I assure you--solemnly assure you, that if you continue to persecute me thus, my death, will be the consequence, I am persuaded you will desist, and suffer me to depart." "Amabel," rejoined the earl, passionately, "is it possible you can be so changed towards me?
Nothing now interferes to prevent our union." "Except my own determination to the contrary, my lord," she replied.

"I can never be yours." "Wherefore not ?" asked the earl, half angrily, half reproachfully.
"Because I know and feel that I should condemn myself to wretchedness," she replied.

"Because--for since your lordship will force the truth from me, I must speak out--I have learnt to regard your character in its true light,--and because my heart is wedded to heaven." "Pshaw!" exclaimed the earl, contemptuously; "you have been listening so long to your saintly father's discourses, that you fancy them applicable to yourself.